Page 14 of The Midnight Frequency

CHAPTER FIVE

[ “IF YOU ARE looking for closure, remember, some doors were left locked on purpose.”

— Dead Air - Episode 2 ]

Maggie

“That man was totally thinking about going down on you,” Tess said as soon as he was closed up in his studio.

“Oh, please.” I was pretty sure only I had those thoughts on my mind. Quickly followed by bone-deep horror at the thought that vampires might be able to actually smell desire on someone. “You just walked out at a weird second.”

“He was on his knees for several seconds. At least five Mississippis.”

“Five Mississippis? What are we, five?”

“He was totally thinking about taking a sip from your femoral artery then going down on you until you were crying.”

“Not everyone is as wanton as you,” I teased.

“Oh, please. Yes, they are. Worse, even. I know what a hungry man looks like. He was famished. Also, I’m annoyed you didn’t mention how hot he is up close.”

“Maybe I didn’t notice because he’s such a jerk.”

“I dunno. All buttoned up like that? I bet he’s wild in the sack.”

I did not need her putting more thoughts of that vampire in my head.

“Don’t you have a podcast to record?” I grumbled.

Tess went ahead and ignored that. “Why haven’t you given me any pages to read lately?”

“Because I haven’t written any,” I admitted, feeling that all too familiar tightening in my stomach. It wasn’t for lack of trying; I sat down every night to stare at my screen. No words would come. Not a single awful sentence. Nothing. I was starting to worry the words would never flow again.

“Maybe you need a night out. Or a really good long weekend fling. Something to give you inspiration.”

“I write about love, not just sex,” I insisted. My previous stories had all been of the slow-burn variety. I was a sucker for yearning, for interrupted intimacy, for the huge payoff that came from waiting until almost the end of the book to get to the steam.

“Right. But right now, you have neither.”

“Harsh.”

“But true.”

“Last I checked, you haven’t had any luck in either department either,” I shot back.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. I’m going to have to hang up my dating expert cap if I don’t have a decent—or amusingly awful—date in the near future. We’re surviving on Margo’s epic attempt to be in a throuple.”

“What made someone as jealous as Margo think she could handle that?” I asked, shaking my head.

“I know, right? How about you, me, Margo, and margaritas on Friday? Maybe we find hookups. Or the loves of our lives. Or maybe we just get gloriously drunk, sing karaoke, and forget about our problems for a night?”

“It’s a date.”

Honestly, it was the last thing I wanted to do. All I wanted was to read novels, procrasti-bake endless sweets, and try to figure out the opening sentence to my next book.

But if the past week was anything to go by, just staring at my screen willing the words to come was getting me nowhere. Maybe Tess was right. Going out might shake the words loose.

It was worth a try at least.